


Stay With Me

by locoglencoco



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Book 5: Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike), F/M, First Kiss, Fix-It, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Troubled Blood, Troubled Blood Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26505133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locoglencoco/pseuds/locoglencoco
Summary: **TROUBLED BLOOD SPOILERS***CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK!It's the question on everyone's mind: What would have happened if Barclay hadn't shown up?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 9
Kudos: 108





	Stay With Me

The silence thickened around them.

Robin, suddenly unable to sit still, cleared her throat and rose with her plate. She brought it to the sink, turning her back to Strike once she reached the small circle of light to hide what she was certain was a slow flush creeping up her neck.

Turning on the tap with slightly trembling fingers, she focused on the sensation of warm water flowing over her hands and the sharp citrus smell of the cheap dish soap Pat had purchased.

So absorbed was she in trying to calm her own racing heart that she wasn't aware Strike had risen from the couch until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye to her left and another plate clinked gently down into the sink in front of her. Wordlessly, Strike rolled up his shirtsleeves and began washing his own plate, reaching awkwardly into the sink.

Side by side they stood, not touching, but close enough to feel warmth radiating between them. It was Robin who shifted first, leaning gently into him as she reached across him for more dish soap, her hair tickling Strike's nose as her head passed just beneath his. His breath hitched, causing Robin to abruptly retract her arm, soap bottle in hand, catching Strike's solar plexus with her elbow as she did so.

"Bugger. Sorry," she stammered, reflexively putting her hand, still sudsy and holding the dishsoap, on the spot her elbow had just grazed and turning to look at Strike. The expression she found on his face was far from the pain or annoyance she expected. Strike met her eyes with a mixture of fear and longing as he gently took the soap bottle from her, put it on the counter, and brought his equally sudsy hand to his chest to cover the one Robin had placed there.

Their eyes met, and time seemed to cease.

Somewhere in the street, a car rolled past, Sam Smith's "Stay with me" pouring from the window.

_I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?_

_Oh won't you stay with me_

_Because you're all I need_

Like the night they clung to each other on the steps of Robin's wedding reception, neither could have said who moved first. Suddenly, the space between them shrank, pulling them towards each other.

Strike brought his other hand gently to the nape of Robin's neck. She had just an instant to gasp as a trickle of soapy water dripped down her back before Strike's mouth was on hers. Robin brought both arms up around Strike's neck as reality began to dissolve around her.

A moment later, however, reality came flooding back as a bolt of pain lanced up her battered nose. "Argh," she hissed as she pulled away and held her face.

Strike, mortification rising by the moment, began to stammer an apology. "Oh Christ, Robin, I'm sorry. Fuck, forget that happened..."

"No," said Robin thickly, one hand still pressed to her face, "it's just my bloody nose." She gestured with her free hand at her nose, which had indeed begun to bleed again. Laughing weakly at her own unintentional pun, she paused as Strike's words sank in.

"Do you... do you really want to forget about it?" she said, her words becoming increasingly lisped and nasal as she tried to stem the flow of blood and not focus on the lingering taste of whisky and nicotine on her lips. Strike hastily pressed a bit of kitchen roll into her hand, tentatively meeting her eyes as he did so.

"I... don't know, Robin, I just..." He trailed off, lost for words. "I don't want to lose everything."

"Neither do I," Robin said, her "th"s sounding increasingly like "d"s. "This job means everything to me. You mean everyth..."

To her mortification, whether it was due to a combination of pain and alcohol or something else entirely, a single tear slid out of one swollen eye. Strike bent down, pressing his forehead to hers. With a shaky hand, he cupped her face, wiping away the tear with his thumb.

"Robin, I..." But rather than finish his sentence, he leaned forward and planted a delicate kiss on her cheek, in the very spot where he'd wiped away her tear. He paused, waiting to see if she would pull away. Robin, who still had one hand clutching kitchen roll to her face, felt a sudden urge to laugh.

"Christ, what must I look like?" She said shakily, "Bloody and sniveling all over the place."

"Hideous," smirked Strike as he leaned back, both disappointed and relieved at the momentary break in tension, "Hard to look at you."

"Har har har," said Robin, turning toward the sink to check if her nose was still dripping.

"Seriously, you look repulsive."

"Oh, sod off," Robin retorted, smacking him lightly on the chest.

Impulsively, Strike caught her hand and pulled her to face him again. This time, there was no questioning who moved first.

Strike pulled Robin to him, dipping his head low to press his lips to hers while trying to keep pressure off her nose.

"I'd rather not," he breathed against her lips, "if it's all the same to you."

**Author's Note:**

> This might just stay as a one shot. I'm not sure I can do the ensuing smut justice. Also, I can speak with experience that first kisses with a nosebleed are... Fraught. And ridiculous.


End file.
